


Graduation

by hotchoco195



Series: Second Chances [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, College, Extortion, Family Feels, Fist Fights, Gen, Grumpy Old Men, Kidnapping, all of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 02:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: The thing about children is, they grow up.





	Graduation

Bucky raised his hand. “Jess!”

Natasha smiled, weaving her way through the sea of students and proud parents. Bucky wrapped her in a hug, kissing the top of her head as she squeezed him back.

“Congrats, kid.”

“Thanks, Papa.”

They separated, the redhead shucking off her robes.

“Hey, what’s the hurry?” Bucky frowned, “I haven’t taken nearly enough photos of you lookin’ all grown-up and qualified.”

“It’s so stuffy. I feel like I’m wearing a cape.”

He dropped his voice. “We know plenty of people who wear capes.”

Natasha giggled. “Yeah, but Uncle Thor pulls it off slightly better than me.”

“Miss Smith?”

The redhead turned. Tony was smiling at them, eyes hidden behind his shades. “Mr Stark. Your speech was so...inspiring.”

Bucky sniffed. “And a little long.”

The inventor wrinkled his nose. “Some things are worth the wait. Mind if we have a chat? There are a few upcoming opportunities I’d like to discuss.”

He jerked his head towards an unoccupied cocktail table and the trio made their way over, Tony grabbing a couple of mozzarella sticks as they passed the buffet. He took a crunchy bite, looking around to make sure there was no one in earshot.

“Congratulations Tasha. I gotta say, this is the most fun I’ve had at one of these things. Usually it’s all alumni donations this, intern program that.”

“We shouldn’t be talking, Stark,” Bucky scanned the room, “Too many eyes.”

“Let ‘em look. All they’ll see is the owner of Stark Industries making a job offer to a talented young woman who just graduated top of her class at M.I.T.” he flicked his glasses down, “Which I am, by the way. We can get you a desk tomorrow if you want it.”

“Thanks, Uncle Tony, but I think I’m going to take some time off.”

“She’s earned it.” Bucky said with a fond look.

Tony huffed. “Fine, fine. I can take rejection, despite what some people think. Come and see me when you’re ready.”

Nat stole one of his mozzarella sticks. “What makes you so sure I wanna work at S.I.? I’ve got other offers, you know.”

“From who, Pym? Oscorp? Rand? Don’t make me laugh. Stark is a family business, and you’re family.”

She tilted her head. “I’ll consider it - next year.”

Tony whistled. “You’re a hard woman, Romanov.”

“Takes after her dad.” Bucky winked.

“Unfortunately,” Tony pushed his glasses back up his nose, “So I gotta make the rounds, smalltalk some professor types, but there’s a jet waiting at Logan to take us to the Tower for family dinner. I’ll see you there?”

“Don’t take too long, Stark. I’m starving.” Bucky frowned.

“Keep your hat on, Barnes. I never miss a good party.”

*****

Howler’s head perked up at the first jingle of the harness.

“That’s right,” Bucky smiled, “Time to get ready.”

The border collie bounded off the sofa, trotting over to stand patiently at the ex-soldier’s feet. He crouched down and gently lifted one paw into the harness, followed by the other. He was buckling it when Natasha’s door opened, the girl leaning on the doorframe with a grin.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Any time.”

She disappeared back into her room, returning with her distinctive hair tucked under a hat. Bucky clipped the leash on, and they headed out.

He scanned the street and randomly took a left, Nat falling into step beside them, hands in her pockets. They walked in silence for awhile, watching the dog sniff trees, enjoying the sun.

“This is nice. Howler misses having you around.”

“Just Howler?” Nat smiled.

“ _I_ like having you in the house. Feels warmer somehow.”

“It’s nice to be here. Dorm life is _not_ relaxing. I am so over labelling everything in my fridge.”

“You know, if you took the job with Tony, you’d be close enough to drop by. Maybe stay the night on weekends - if that doesn’t cramp your style.”

Natasha gave him a wry look. “Papa, we discussed this. I want to take some time, travel for a bit before I get locked into anything. I thought you were onboard with that?”

“I am. I wanna be.” he scowled, kicking a loose stone off the path, “I just worry about you.”

“You don’t trust me to take care of myself?”

The brunette stopped. “I know you can. But I’ve lasted this long by always expecting the worst, and the idea of you running around on the other side of the world without me backing you up makes my neck itch.”

“I’m not gonna be infiltrating embassies, Papa. It’s a gap year - I’ll go to bars and museums, typical tourist stuff. Just one more American sightseer, nothin’ special.”

“Hey,” he stopped, running his thumb over her cheek, “You’re all kinds of special.”

Natasha smirked. “You’re right. How many other deaged ex-Avengers are there in the world?”

“One.”

She groaned, shoving him affectionately as they started down the block again. “I shouldn’t have made that so easy.”

“You know that’s not the reason, right? I mean, there are a million reasons, and that stuff is bottom of the list. You’re smart, Talia - so smart it scares me sometimes, cos I wonder why you’ve been puttin’ up with my dumb ass. Maybe you’ll come back from your world tour and realise you’re way too cool to hang around with me.”

Natasha slid her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. “Never. Best team on the East Coast, remember?”

*****

Bucky dug his hands deeper into his pockets, eyes sweeping the parking lot as he gave the row of mini vans a wide berth. He’d wanted to get Natasha something for her trip, to show he was supportive, but the gift shops at their local mall were full of cheesy passport covers and bright pink luggage tags. He might have to make a trip into the city - not one of his favourite activities, but at least he could swing by the Tower and have a beer with Steve.

He took out his car keys as he got closer to the sedan, and stopped. Something didn’t feel right. Bucky kept his head still, letting his gaze drift over the nearby shoppers. Nobody looked out of place, and no one was watching him. He approached the car slowly, peering through the driver’s side window. There were no suspicious wires, nothing broken. The back seat was empty. The brunette made a show of dropping his keys and crouched down, checking the undercarriage, but there was nothing there.

He straightened up and tried to shrug it off, unlocking the door. Bucky slid behind the wheel and took a breath.

“Tony’s right. You’re a paranoid old man.”

He threw the car into reverse and started easing out of the spot. As he looked up to check his mirrors, something hit him with a thud and a thick crunch of metal. He jolted forwards, the side airbag going off with a second dull thump. Bucky yanked the handbrake, groaning as he ran a hand over his ribs to check for damage. There was nothing broken; his metal arm had taken the worst of the impact. Part of him wanted to sink into the thick fog of shock but he didn’t let it, shaking his head as he considered the situation.

An SUV in the opposite row had backed into him. He couldn’t see the driver but there were plenty of people running over to help, or get a look at the spectacle. His door was bent in, the SUV still wedged against it, so he slithered over to the passenger side and let himself out. His legs felt shaky but he managed to stand, using the car to help steady himself as he walked around to check on the other driver.

“Hey. Hey, you alright?”

It was a woman, blonde and reasonably well-off judging by her clothes. She was slumped forward on the wheel, arms hanging limp over the top. Bucky opened the door and tilted her back against the seat, tapping her cheek gently.

“You awake? Ma’am, can you hear me?”

A siren sounded, getting closer and closer. He checked her pulse and breathing; they both seemed fine.

“Ma’am? Can you open your eyes?”

The siren cut off abruptly as an ambulance pulled up. A couple of EMTs jumped out of the back, running towards him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her - I think she hit her head.” he said.

“Are you okay, sir?” one grabbed him by the shoulder, “Do you know this woman?”

“No, no, she hit my car.”

“Are you injured?”

“I’m fine. She needs help.”

“We’ll look after you both.” the EMT said, still gripping Bucky’s shoulder.

The brunette frowned, tearing his eyes away from the wreck. There was a strange pulsing in his neck, like his heartbeat was amplified, and he could hear it pounding in his head. He felt too hot, sweat beading on the back of his neck.

“What did you…” he swayed, trying to break the iron hold and failing.

“We’ve got another patient here!” the EMT yelled, sliding his arms around Bucky to help the older man to the ground as his vision blurred.

He lashed out weakly. “No...not...a patient...no doctors.”

Another wave of pressure rolled through his mind, and his eyes were so heavy. He closed them, just for a second.

Bucky’s first thought was pain. He bit back a groan, fighting the urge to roll the crick out of his neck. Long-silent pathways were firing in his brain as his heart beat rose and steadied. He’d been drugged - strong sedative, obviously had some idea what he was capable of. Most likely knew his identity. Chances of escape lower then, unless someone got careless. But why would anyone bother after all these years of ‘retirement’? He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but he wasn’t exactly a prime asset either. Old grudge then? Which was probably not great for his long-term survival.

In terms of his immediate surroundings, he was sitting upright in what felt like the world’s hardest flatpack chair. His arms were seriously bound behind his back, but at least the metal one was still attached - maybe his captors had overlooked it? Tony’s camouflage mods were pretty convincing. His ankles were cuffed to the chair. It still felt like he was wearing his own clothes and boots, which was mildly comforting, though they’d definitely taken his weapons. Apart from his aching head, he felt mostly okay.

He could make out muffled voices somewhere on the other side of the wall, but no heartbeats or breathing in the room. Bucky figured if they were confident enough to leave him alone, they must have cameras, and kept himself limp. There was a drip somewhere, and far away a hum of traffic, like a highway. The space had an echoey feel that made him think warehouse, which coated the back of his throat in a wave of terror bile as he remembered the many HYDRA safehouses he’d filled with his screams.

There was a metallic scraping and someone walked in. Bucky made himself as still as a statue, breathing calm and even like your typical unconscious victim. There was more scraping, and then a sigh accompanied by a rustle of fabric.

“We can drop the charade, comrade Barnes. My sensors detect the most minute changes in your biochemistry; you regained consciousness some moments ago.”

Bucky waited a moment to see if he was bluffing, and was rewarded by a swift slap across the face. He growled, blinking against the light of a dozen fluorescents pointed at him. A much older man sat across from him, a satisfied smile on his wrinkled face. He wore a dark uniform, the colour difficult to see in the glare. His hair had receded to almost nothing, but he had a sharply trimmed silver goatee. His eyes were watery behind round-rimmed glasses, and he looked very old in a small way - not frail, but reduced somehow. Still, he didn’t look like someone to underestimate, as Bucky’s stinging cheek made clear.

He was also the last person Bucky wanted to see.

“Lukin.”

He raised his brows, amused. When he spoke, it was with a thick Russian accent. ”Ah, so you remember me? I did wonder, after all this time.”

“You’re a hard man to forget. Gotta say I’m surprised - you’re what, 100?”

“Not quite, but close enough.”

The brunette shook his head. “Modern medicine’s a hell of a thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lukin smiled, “We did alright in our day. Why, look at you! Older than I, yet you could pass for any suburban bore about to have his middle-life crisis.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “Why am I here?”

Lukin smiled. “It’s taken a very long time to find you, comrade Barnes.”

“Makes me wonder why you bothered. If you needed a hobby, I hear bingo’s all the rage in your age bracket.”

“Call it...a matter of pride,” Lukin’s gaze hardened, “I was your handler long before Pierce. I knew better than anyone what a threat you might be to us. The others thought I was crazy. Why go chasing an agent that no one believed existed, when the world was burning down around us? But you were no longer under our control, free to tell whatever tales you pleased. You had to be found, or all their damage control would come to nothing.”

He sat back in his chair with a sigh.

“But I admit, even I eventually gave up hope of finding you. My agents expected you to fall back on old habits, old training. It appears you were more adaptable than we thought.”

“Thanks,” Bucky drawled, “I learned it hunting HYDRA scientists across Europe. Maybe you should have read your files – everyone else did.”

Lukin laughed. “Indeed. Agent Romanova was quite thorough in distributing our archives. Of course, she exposed herself in the process. Whatever happened to Natasha?”

Bucky flinched, pressed his lips together. “Guess she got out of the game.”

“Perhaps. I have another theory.”

The Russian held up a folded newspaper. The article was titled _MIT celebrates young graduates_ , and underneath was a big colour photo of Natasha, smiling as she accepted a diploma.

“I have been retired for some years now, but I still keep an ear open. One of my American acquaintances happened to send me this, and I couldn’t help noticing the striking resemblance. She is the spitting image of a young Romanova.”

Bucky snorted. “And? Don’t we all have like, six doppelgängers or something?”

“I believe there is a popular theory to that effect, yes. But it was too intriguing of a coincidence to pass up, so I did some further investigation. It seems Miss Jessica _Smith_ ,” he lingered on the name, “Has almost nothing in the way of public records before she started school. Odd, yes? Almost as though she is not a real person. A cover.”

“Are you tryin’ to tell me Natasha Romanov somehow turned herself back into a teenager to go to college? So she can become an intern at some tech firm? Maybe you’ve been hittin’ the vodka a little hard, Alex.”

Lukin gave a wry smile. “An unlikely scenario, I agree. But she could perhaps have a daughter – a daughter as clever and beautiful as the Black Widow. I think you understand what a potential asset that knowledge might be. And then I found this.”

He held up another photo from the graduation ceremony, of two girls smiling in their robes and mortarboards outside the theatre - and just visible in the back corner, Nat and Bucky hugging.

“I was stunned. Surely that could not be the Winter Soldier? But then my old wheels started turning. Two former agents of the KGB and HYDRA, both missing. A young woman with a remarkably familiar face,” he brandished the photo, “I wondered if it were possible those agents had been…fraternising?”

The brunette raised his brows. “I shot Romanov, remember? What makes you think she’d play Happy Families with me after that?”

“The heart works in mysterious ways, comrade Barnes. I think Agent Romanova found you after the failure of Operation Insight. I think you reached an…accord, and had a child. I assume this resulted in Agent Romanova’s death, since I can find no trace of her since. And out of the many, many questions this raises, the one I am most interested in – and the one you ought to focus on – is this: how much is that child worth?”

“You’re wrong.” Bucky said, voice flat.

“To you, I would imagine she is worth everything,” Lukin gave a wolfish grin, “To me, much more.”

“Are you listening? I didn’t have a kid with Natasha Romanov.”

“There is no point being coy, comrade. Even if you are not the father, you cannot deny she is the Widow’s daughter. Look at her!” Lukin threw the newspaper into his lap.

“Has the cold killed your brain cells, or did you take too many pistol whips to the back of the skull?” Bucky growled, “Romanov was Red Room. You know their protocols. She couldn’t _have_ children.”

“Mistakes can be made. Rules broken.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “I doubt they were flexible on that one.”

Lukin scowled, bending down to rest his hands on his thighs, face close to Bucky’s. “I don’t know anything for certain, comrade. There are details I have yet to learn, mysteries to be unraveled. I will know the truth eventually – everyone talks, sooner or later. The Widow’s involvement in this may be unclear for now, but yours is not. You held this woman with the proud embrace of a father, and _that is fact_.”

Bucky flexed his jaw. “Go on. Tell me the grand plan.”

“You will return to your life as if we have never met, and when I need you again, I will send instructions.”

“Go to hell. I’m done being your assassin.”

Lukin smirked. “Then I will take the girl instead. Whatever the exact nature of her genetics, I have a feeling she will be quite suited to your old chair.”

Bucky’s throat clenched around nothing, choking on a breath he couldn’t get out. He closed his eyes, prompting another laugh from the Russian.

“Your emotions betray you, Barnes. You have become weak in your years away from us. Perhaps the girl is a better choice after all?”

“You stay the fuck away from her.”

“It’s too late for that, comrade. My men are already in position. The only way to stop them is to accept my offer – I suggest you hurry, before someone has an accident.”

The brunette stared at him blankly. “You sent men?”

“Half a dozen. They are closing in, like wolves circling a lost lamb.”

Bucky laughed, rich and loud. “You sent _six_ guys to kidnap someone you think is the daughter of the world’s best female agent, and a genetically-modified assassin? What’s the matter, Lukin - you couldn’t afford union rates? Were they having a clearance sale?”

His ex-handler slapped him again but Bucky just laughed.

“I hope you got a receipt.”

*****

Natasha rolled the tension from her shoulders as she waited for a script to finish running, looking around the crowded train carriage. There were school kids lazily blowing bubbles in their gum as they chatted by the entrance, a few older ladies talking quietly. A young mother rocked a pram in the priority seating. There was a college kid reading a thick tome on Alexander the Great, and a few guys in suits with messenger bags. Her tablet beeped and she turned her attention back to the lines of code. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, screen glowing as they passed through tunnels and back into the daylight.

The next time she looked up, they were near the end of the line. The schoolkids and grandmothers were gone. Most of the carriage was empty, a few broker-types scrolling on their phones. She glanced down at her screen and caught a sudden movement in the corner of her eye. She glanced up at the reflection in the opposite window: the student had lowered his book and was watching her.

Natasha sighed internally. She was no stranger to creeps on the train, particularly guys her age who thought nerdy chicks were _sooooo_ cool. She avoided his gaze, checking which stop they were coming up to – and realized the guy in the seat across the aisle was staring at his lock screen.

Nat slid her Starkpad into her backpack, making a show of doing up the buckles. She sat back in her seat, loose and calm, gaze fixed out the window like she was daydreaming. The train pulled into the next station and she stood, turning towards the door. The guy opposite stood as well, taking a step towards her. The college kid hurriedly stuffed his book into his bag, hefting it onto his shoulder as he got up. Natasha paused between them.

“You fellas lost?”

Behind the college kid, another three guys in suits stood and walked towards the door, blocking her path. The suit closest to her gave a stern look.

“We’d like you to come with us, Miss Smith.”

“Sorry, my calendar’s booked for the rest of the day. Maybe we could do next week?”

The woman with the pram threw back a thick blanket and pulled out a stun baton, the weapon sparking to life with a ghostly blue glow. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

The doors closed, the train clunking loudly along the tracks as they picked up speed again. Natasha sighed.

“That was my stop.”

The college kid, suddenly a lot more serious behind his glasses, took a step forward. “Miss Smith-”

She threw her backpack in his face and kicked him square in the kneecap, and he crumpled backwards into the other suits. The one closest to her drove an arm forward and Natasha rounded, whipping the pepper spray out of her sleeve in a fluid motion and dousing him in the face. He screamed, reeling back and she ducked out of reach of the stun baton, vaulting over a seat. Nat grappled with the baton wielder and dug her thumb nail into a vulnerable tendon, the other woman screeching. The pressure was enough to loosen her grip and Nat snatched the baton, swinging it into her attacker’s ribs with a satisfying zap. The woman twitched and dropped.

She spun, using the rod to block an attack aimed at her shoulder. Nat pivoted her elbow to bring it down on the suit’s bicep, but someone hit her in the back and she staggered. Another blow caught her on the wrist and the baton flew across the train, rolling out of reach. She grabbed the nearest pole, swinging herself feet first into one of the fake brokers. He sprawled backwards into a seat and she hit the floor, rolling beneath the fists swinging at her. She landed flat on her back and jerked herself upright, grabbing the nearest guy’s wrist as he tried another punch. Natasha yanked his arm around in the socket, something cracking unnervingly loud, and shoved him into his friend trying to get up, sending them both down again. Nat grabbed the overhead rails and lifted herself, wrapping her legs around the college kid’s head. She spun and let go, riding him face down into the floor, and tumbled into the next guy. Her foot caught him in the stomach and he doubled over, the second kick landing on his temple. His head snapped back and he went down.

There were two guys still on their feet, the one with the busted shoulder holding it tentatively as he glared at her. Natasha jumped up onto a seat and kicked off the carriage wall, slamming him into the opposite window. She grabbed a fistful of hair and smacked him into the glass a few more times to be sure. A strong arm slid across her throat and tugged, the redhead stumbling backwards as her attacker tightened the headlock. She kicked at him and he leaned back, her feet leaving the floor. Nat managed to get one on the back of the seat and pushed, driving him back into a pole. He cursed and shook her. She gasped for breath and tried to slam her head back into his nose but he dodged it, shaking her again.

Natasha growled and sank her teeth into his arm. He swore and dropped her, her legs failing as she coughed. She didn’t wait, crawling away as quickly as she could - but not quick enough. The woman she’d shocked grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her leg back. Nat lashed out with the other foot and planted the heel in her jaw. She spotted the stun baton under a nearby seat and wriggled towards it, fingers closing around the warm metal.

A hand closed on her foot and yanked, rolling her onto her back. The last suit glowered down at her.

“Bitch!”

Nat stabbed the baton into his ankle and he screamed, eyes rolling back as his muscles spasmed and gave up.

Her breathing was loud in the sudden silence of the carriage, chest heaving as she scrambled to her feet. A chime indicated the next station as the train started to slow, rolling to a stop. Natasha glanced at the prone bodies on the floor, making sure none of them were about to get up, then snagged her backpack and skipped out through the open doors. She ran down the stairs, vaulting the ticket barrier at the bottom, and took off at a dead sprint for a block and a half. Then she turned a corner and abruptly stopped running, walking calmly into a nearby department store. She examined a rack of dresses speculatively while she caught her breath, pulling out her phone. She rang Bucky, but it went straight to voicemail. She dialed again.

“Uncle Tony? I think Papa’s in trouble.”

*****

Lukin stalked away from Bucky with a glare, wrestling his phone out of his pocket. He dialed furiously, turning his back to the former sniper. Bucky whistled an annoying, cheerful tune, tapping his toes.

“No answer, Alex?”

The Russian ignored him, trying again.

“Maybe they’re just busy.”

Lukin’s lips pulled back into a snarl. “Your time in America has made you arrogant. Have you forgotten our work together? The things we did? You were nothing when they gave you to me, a relic of the war. Just a nameless weapon for me to point at our enemies.”

Bucky ground his teeth, and Lukin smiled, coughing out a laugh.

“Ah, you don’t like to be reminded? I imagine you’ve buried those days deep down inside, so you can pretend to be a normal, loving father. Let’s see if we can dig them back out. _Zhelaniye_.”

As soon as he heard it, memories started kicking down the doors of his brain, trampling everything else. Bucky didn’t quite flinch, but his heart skipped in his chest, suddenly terrified that he was about to turn back into that mindless puppet. That he’d never be free of the Winter Soldier, or see Steve and Tony and the others again.

That he’d never get to see Tash grow up.

The thought was like pouring cool water over the raging fire in his synapses. Bucky squared his shoulders and met Lukin’s gaze steadily.

The other man frowned. “ _Zhelaniye. Rzhavyy.”_

A smile crept over Bucky’s face. “Sorry, comrade. Guess it wore off.”

He looked furious, tensing his shoulders as if preparing for another slap - and then stopped. “A shame. But we can work on that.”

The brunette’s smile faded. Lukin tried calling again, stalking out with his phone pressed to his ear. The door rolled shut behind him with a deafening click. A massive wave of relief swept over Bucky, rising in his throat until he thought it might choke him. The trigger didn’t work - he was safe, at least for now. As long as they didn’t have Nat, they couldn’t make him do anything.

He was worried about her though. Bucky felt like he’d done a decent job training her, but these guys were tough - tough enough to snatch him, and he had the benefit of his memories to warn him when shit was about to go down. Nat didn’t. She hadn’t really faced a direct attack before, with the exception of the occasional cocky frat boy who thought an ass grab was a suitable greeting. Could she handle a couple of trained professionals? More than a couple? He wasn’t sure.

Even if they did both make it through this in one piece, how was he going to keep it from happening again? He could get rid of Lukin, but what about the next time someone snapped an inconvenient photo? Was he going to have to track down everyone who might remember him? That could be hundreds of former agents, people he didn’t even know about - not to mention people who knew Nat. She’d had her face everywhere following her speech at Congress,and in a couple of years she’d be easily recognisable as the former Black Widow. Who would help her if he wasn’t there?

Bucky ground his teeth. He was Natasha’s father, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her. He wasn’t going to let their pasts ruin her life. He leaned forward in his chair as far as he could and started working at his restraints, hoping he’d be fast enough. 

Natasha pasted a bright smile over her face and walked confidently up to the reception desk.

"Hi, Jessica Smith. I have an appointment with Mr Stark."

The receptionist eyed her politely but carefully and typed something. "Of course, Miss Smith. I'll need you to sign in."

The girl scrawled an unreadable signature across the offered Stark Pad and the receptionist offered her a lanyard.

"The elevators are to the left."

"Thanks."

She headed for the elevators, giving off an appropriate air of awe for someone her age. A pair of doors slid open and she darted in, the metal instantly shutting behind her.

"Mr Stark and Captain Rogers are in the workshop." Jarvis said.

Nat grimaced. "Better stop by the office first, Jarvis - just in case anyone's watching."

"Of course."

The elevator sped up the tower with an almost silent whistle, pausing briefly somewhere around the top third. The doors didn't open though, and after a moment it continued, coming to a halt on the workshop level. Nat almost ran out, the security measures parting to let her through.

Tony sat at his desk, three different screens floating in the air around him. Steve leaned against a nearby table, fingers pressed to his chin, his other arm folded tight over his chest. They were both frowning.

"What have you got?" The redhead spat.

"Stevie and I both tried calling, but there's no response. I pinged the tracker in his car and got this," Tony indicated an aerial shot of an impound lot, "Which ain't good."

"You think he's there?" Nat leaned on the desk beside him.

"City-run impound, so probably not. But they would only tow it if he parked somewhere too long, or if there was an accident."

"The hospitals?"

"Jarvis is doing a sweep now, as well as looking for local news reports and anything on the emergency response frequencies."

"Tell us about the guys who attacked you on the train." Steve growled.

Nat shrugged. "Six of them, five men, one woman. Russian I think - one of them had an accent. They weren't wearing any tac gear, and the only weapon they had was a stun baton. They wanted me alive. I don't think they expected much of a struggle."

"Probably thought they had the numbers." Tony nodded distractedly, eyes skimming the screens.

"Any idea who sent them?" Steve asked.

She shook her head. "Do you think they're HYDRA?"

"Too early to tell. I always hope we’ve seen the last of ‘em, but they keep popping up. Might be someone else entirely. Bucky's got plenty of enemies, but so have you - I mean, the other version of you."

Tony made a sceptical face. “I doubt they’d figure out the whole magical deaging thing. We still don’t understand it, and we know it happened.”

Steve shrugged, jaw stiff. “I stopped making assumptions about what people are capable of a long time ago.”

The computer beeped. “Sir, I’ve found something.”

An audio file opened on one of the screens, the woman’s voice clipped and formal.

_“And in other news, there’s been an accident in the parking lot of a local shopping mall today. Police report an as-yet unidentified female driver backed into a nearby vehicle, resulting in serious injuries to the male driver. Both were transported from the scene by ambulance.”_

Tony stood. “Picture?”

The air around them filled with a mixture of candid shots, press photos and social media posts. Nat’s breath caught in her throat.

“That’s Papa’s car.”

“Jarv, how are we going with that hospital search?” the inventor asked, leaning over to touch her arm, “Crash doesn’t look that bad. The serious injuries thing might be bullshit.”

Natasha’s eyes bored into his like diamonds. “Or it might be a cover for what they’re planning to do to him instead.”

Tony cleared his throat. “It might be.”

There was a snap behind them and they both looked over to find Steve holding the edge of the table in one hand.

“We’ll get him back.”

Natasha bit her lip and gave a grim nod. Tony sat down again, pulling his keyboard towards him.

“Jarvis, start tracking that ambulance on traffic cams - borrow our SHIELD satellite link if you can. I’ll run a facial recognition search, see if I can pull any records on our helpful EMTs here.”

Nat pulled up a chair, commandeering one of the screens. “I’ll see if I can trace the guys from the train; they might lead us back to their boss.”

Stark grinned. “See how well we work together?”

*****

Bucky strained at the cuffs, the dark metal biting into his ankles as he bit his tongue. The sleeve holding his arms behind his back wouldn’t budge, and he suspected it was magnetic; it would make sense for Lukin to turn his greatest strength into a weakness. That was fine - once he had his legs free, he’d pop it out of the socket. It might make his escape a bit unwieldy, but he was pretty sure he could still use a rifle one-handed.

The ankle cuffs gave a metal squeal, but the hinges stayed firm. Someone had definitely been prepared for his arrival. Hell, as far as Bucky knew, Lukin had ransacked some old Winter Soldier facility to make absolutely sure. The door slid open and he let himself go limp, a bored expression on his face.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a little room service?”

Lukin’s brow was furrowed, rage spit practically bubbling from his lips. “That _bitch_ daughter of yours is only prolonging the inevitable. She thinks she’s clever, but I am going to show her that a caged rat is still a prisoner, no matter how smart.”

He waggled Bucky’s phone at the ex-sniper.

“Let’s see how much she loves her papa, hmm? Enough to take his place?” he arched a brow, “Or maybe you are ready to cooperate, and I have no need to involve her any further.”

“You’re awfully grumpy, Alex. Did you miss your nap? Need some Jello?”

Lukin’s eyes narrowed and he dialled, pressing the phone to his ear. Bucky waited until the other man turned around and pushed slowly against his cuffs, jaw clenched.

_“Papa?”_

The Russian smiled widely. “He can’t come to the phone right now, but I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Jessica. Your work on the train was impressive.”

_“What do you want?”_

“An operative with great potential. Someone skilled, intelligent, effective. I offered the position to your father, but he wasn’t interested. Perhaps you’ll be more open-minded.”

_“Sorry, I’m taking a gap year.”_

“I could give you plenty of opportunities to travel, try new things, meet people.”

_“And murder them?”_

“Some of them. There’s no such thing as a free ride.”

_“And you say Papa turned you down? Unbelievable.”_

Lukin pursed his lips with a smug expression. “You can ask him yourself. Say hello, comrade Barnes.”

He put the call on speakerphone and held it near Bucky’s chest without getting too close.

“Jess, you should hang up.”

_“Are you hurt?”_

“Not really. You?”

_“Fine. Who’s the guy?”_

“Ex-KGB. He was my handler for awhile.”

 _“I see.”_ she purred dangerously.

Lukin snatched the phone back, turning the speaker off. “It is very simple, my dear. There are three options. One - you agree to work for me, and I return your father safely. Two - he agrees to work for me, and I shall not bother you again. Or three - you both refuse, and I keep you on the line while I teach him new, agonising ways to die.”

_“Wow. I guess I have a lot to think about.”_

She hung up, the dial tone loud in the otherwise silent warehouse. Lukin stared at the phone in shock. Finally he shook his head, spreading his hands with a sad look.

“Children these days. When I was young, we respected our parents.”

Bucky’s eyes were hard. “Fear isn’t the same as respect.”

Lukin sneered. “But it will suffice to make you comply.”

Something outside made a thud loud enough to shake the walls, the metal quivering with an almost bell-like tone. There was a series of high, fast machine gun fire, and someone started yelling in Russian.

“She’s pretty serious about this gap year.” Bucky smirked.

Lukin muttered angrily under his breath and pulled out a gun. Bucky flung his legs upwards, ripping the metal cuffs off the chair, and rolled out of it as the spymaster fired. He rotated his shoulder out of the prosthetic coupling with a grunt and spun to his feet, swinging his other arm into Lukin’s. The still-attached restraints collided with the weapon and sent it spinning across the room.

“You should have stayed retired.” Bucky growled.

The door rocketed open so hard that it crumpled like an accordian, Steve glaring in the entrance, and then Natasha landed squarely between Lukin’s shoulder blades, flattening him.

The redhead flashed a smile. “Hey, Papa.”

Bucky grinned back. “Hi, princess.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“Thanks, pal. We’ll call it payback for all those times I saved your ass.”

The blond snorted. “Gracious as ever.”

“Is this our would-be employer?” Nat jerked her head at the Russian, savagely yanking his hands behind his back.

“Aleksander Lukin,” Bucky nodded, “Yanked me in and out of cryo whenever he needed someone dead.”

Natasha tightened her grip and the old man gasped, letting out a low cry.

Steve sighed. “Can you lay off for five minutes? We need him in one piece.”

“I’m not going to break him,” she giggled, leaning down by his ear, “Just scare him a little.”

“I knew it,” Lukin wheezed out, “I knew you were the Widow’s daughter. You sound just like her.”

Natasha frowned. “Who?”

The brunette rubbed the back of his neck carefully, avoiding hitting himself with his own metal hand. “Lukin thinks I had a daughter with Agent Romanov, given the resemblance.”

Steve gave a shocked laugh. “Wow, I can’t believe we didn’t see that coming.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed, “But in our defence, any agent with the right clearance knows it’s impossible.”

Natasha just smiled. “Your guess is decent,” she murmured, slipping into Russian as she ziptied his wrists together, “But I am not Romanova’s daughter. I’m something much, much worse.”

“What are you?” Lukin gasped, “A clone? A twin?”

Bucky crouched next to them, tilting his head. “Maybe if I was a younger man, I’d let you find out. But it’s like you said, Alex - I’m weak. The idea of watching Natalia take you to pieces doesn’t give me the thrill it should.”

“Natalia?” Lukin frowned.

Bucky cupped his face in one hand. “Imagine the kind of damage the Widow could do, if she’d been raised by the Winter Soldier.”

Lukin blinked at him, glancing back at Natasha. She curled her lip and he gave a fearful moan.

“Here,” Steve hauled the Russian to his feet, “Let me help you with that.”

He steered the other man out and Natasha stood, brushing off her hands.

“I’m gettin’ old, Tasha. I never used to ache so much after one pissy little fight.”

“Ask Tony if you can borrow one of his big tubs. A good soak will have you fixed in no time.”

Bucky swept her into his arms, pressing his face into her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She hugged him back, burrowing into the crook of his neck. “I was sure I’d be too late.”

“Perfect timing, as always.”

She gave a wet laugh, squeezing him. “Can’t believe I saved _you_ for once.”

“You saved me so hard!”

 _“So_ hard. Though it kinda looked like you were handling the situation when we got here.”

“I had a plan, but I never say no to some backup,” Bucky turned towards the door, keeping an arm slung around her shoulders as he kissed the side of her head, “Thanks, Talia.”

“Any time, Papa,” Nat smiled, “So, have I convinced you I can take care of myself?”

“I never doubted you.”

She gave him a dubious look and he shrugged.

“You’ve always been the smart one. I know you can handle the horrors of cheap, dirty hostels, pickpockets, and too much cheap booze.”

“Just like the thousands of drunk, uncultured backpackers before me.” she screwed up her nose.

“Might want to dye your hair though, just for a bit. Stop any more of these old bastards getting the wrong idea.”

Natasha’s eyes lit up. “That could be fun. Can I dye yours too?”

He sighed. “After today, kiddo? Any colour you want.”


End file.
